The S.P.E.W. Monthly Gazette.
by Day Baye
Summary: Well, Hermione wants a newspaper. Everyone else thinks the idea is stupid. Saying such things to Hermione is dangerous.


1 The S.P.E.W. Monthly Gazette  
  
A/N: Hello, everyone. I wrote this story with a complete lack of imagination- it's for my English assignment. Each week my teacher gives out Vocabulary words, and we have to do numerous things with them (think: Crosswords and WordSearches, as well as definitions), one of those things being we have to use ten of the fifteen words in a story. Well, here's my story. Kudos to everyone who can guess all ten words after reading the story.  
  
Feedback: Of course. And just so you know, Sirius may be cold in his cave and needing flames, but I'm thirteen ( a very fragile age ) and anything other than positive feedback and legitimate comments may depress me.  
  
Disclaimer: Is Draco still a prat? Yes? Then I didn't write the Harry Potter series, I'm not JKR, and therefore I don't own anything. So sue me.  
  
Archives: Well, sure. But if you don't drop me a line, you won't know when the sequel comes out.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Harry!" A sharp voice, carrying down the deserted hall, and the black haired boy turned around to see his two best friends, Ron and Hermione, hurrying after him. Harry sighed. He had been hoping for a little quiet time to think about… things. Which he refused to think about now, watching Ron as he surreptitiously squeezed Hermione's hand. Why the two still weren't a couple was beyond Harry's comprehension.  
  
"Yes, Hermione?" he asked cautiously. Hermione sounded either worried or upset, and messing with Hermione in either mood was not the best idea. Harry grimaced in remembrance of the last time someone had annoyed Hermione. Colin probably still had a slight fracture where Hermione had slapped him a year ago.  
  
"S.P.E.W. needs a newspaper for its members. There are fourteen now, and they need to be kept up-to-date with the goings-on of the Society." Hermione grinned triumphantly and waved several sheets of what were probably long-winded essays about house-elves. "Like a S.P.E.W. Gazette!" Ron groaned.  
  
"Herm, the "members" of spew are in Gryffindor and you see them every bloody day. What's the point of a newspaper?" Ron asked exasperatedly. This argument had obviously been going on for a while. Hermione glared at Ron. "Language, Ron, and it's S.P.E.W., not spew."  
  
Harry cut in, hoping to escape quickly. "And you're telling me why?" he asked, annoyed. "Well," Hermione said "We wanted you to…"  
  
"We?" Ron interrupted. "Yes, we. We wanted you to help." Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, and Harry smiled back. Somehow, both boys felt that in the presence of Sybil Trelawney and a spew-obsessed Hermione, eye-rolling was incredibly apposite.  
  
"I was wondering if you could look through old gazettes in the library and garner enough information to help us decide what to put in the gazette, what format to use, that sort of stuff…" Hermione continued on that vein for quite some time. At the risk of using large words, Harry thought Hermione was quite grandiloquent at times. Finally, taking a leaf out of Ron's book, Harry interrupted her.  
  
"It's just a newspaper, Hermione. Just lay it out any old way. It doesn't matter that much… " Harry realized his mistake instantly. Hermione's face reddened and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Are you saying house-elves don't matter?" she hissed. "How could you be so… so…" she whirled around and, pulling Ron after her, ran back down the hall.  
  
Harry stared after Hermione, stunned. He hadn't meant it that way…  
  
*~*  
  
Ron stepped into the boy's dorm room, glancing around the seemingly-empty room in search of the Boy Who Lived.  
  
"Harry, come on out. We need to talk." Ron's words fell heavily into the air, and he watched the still room for a minute. "Come on, Harry, I know you're in here."  
  
There was a faint movement in the corner of the room, then Harry Potter appeared, pulling a silvery cloak off his shoulders. He still wore the cloak, however, and Ron was unnerved as usual by the sight of his best friend's head and shoulders hanging dismembered in the air. Ron sighed.  
  
"Would you please take your cloak off, Harry?" he asked. Harry dropped the invisibility cloak. "What'd you want to talk to me about, Ron?"  
  
The red-haired boy rolled his eyes. "I'd think it'd be rather obvious. Remember anything about Hermione and spew and a newspaper?" Harry flinched slightly.  
  
"I didn't mean it like that, I swear, Ron!" Ron smiled slightly. "I know, Harry. It is rather ridiculous, isn't it? But you've got and made Herm really, really angry and we've got to patch it up in some way or another, mustn't we?" Harry nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. But how?"  
  
The two boys sat in silence for a minute. Then two minutes. A half-hour passed in silence before the door opened again and Neville walked inside. He noticed the two boys immediately. Neville, being the kind of person he was, immediately attempted to help.  
  
"Ron? Harry? What's wrong?" Ron and Harry turned to Neville simultaneously and began to speak.  
  
"Well, Hermione…"  
  
"You see, Harry…"  
  
Neville shook his head impatiently. Pointing a finger at Harry he said calmly "You first."  
  
When the matter had been explained to him sufficiently, Neville began to laugh. Harry and Ron both stared at him as if he were some sort of demented creature, but Neville continued to laugh.  
  
"That… that is so typically Hermione!" Neville managed to wheeze. Ron glared at Neville reproachfully. "Do you have any ideas, Neville?"  
  
A few hours later, a group of very tired Gryffindor boys had come up with a perfect solution to the problem. Well, six Gryffindor boys, actually, but a hyper Seamus usually wasn't included in the head count. Colin Creevey was lending his help in trade for Harry posing for and signing a few pictures.  
  
"Well, Dean, is the gazette good enough yet?" Dean gazed at the newspaper thoughtfully, eyes half-closed for want of sleep. "It doesn't look like the hoary old newspaper we had before… but it could still use a little work."  
  
Colin gazed at the paper thoughtfully. "It needs to be garnished with real pictures," he said. "The Daily Prophet is always filled with pictures. Do you know any house-elves who'd like to pose for me?"  
  
Harry looked at Ron, both having the same thought. "Dobby…."  
  
Seamus jumped into the air in excitement. "Kitchens!"  
  
The boys sighed. "You tickle the pear, right?" Seamus asked. "Come on, let's go!" The boys crept out of the room, careful not to step on The-Plank- That-Squeaked or The-Board-That-Groaned.  
  
Upon reaching the kitchens, the boys were treated to the sight of mouth- watering desserts and a gustatory array of pies presumably left over from supper. A group of house-elves turned to the boys, eyes widening at seeing such a large number of people in the kitchens around midnight. Colin stepped forward to talk to them.  
  
"Hullo ladies, gentleman!" he said with a grin. "Would you mind if we took some pictures of you?" The house-elves stared in shock at Colin. "Please?" he asked engagingly.  
  
"No, please sir, we isn't good for takin' pictures, sir!" The rest of the house-elves clamored in support of the greenish elf who had spoken first. The crowd parted suddenly and Dobby strode through to stand in front of them.  
  
"Harry Potter is takin' pictures and yous saying no? "Dobby asked incredulously. There was a muttering in the group. "You may not like getting annuities like me…" Dobby puffed his chest out proudly at that. The crowd muttered again. "But there isn't anythin' wrong with taking pictures, is there?" Colin snapped a photo of Dobby quickly.  
  
The heads began nodding in agreement. Colin was quickly in the center of a large group of house-elves, directing them this way and that, snapping rolls of film. The other boys just stayed back unless Colin wanted them for a picture. Seamus was quickly getting more rambunctious, eating sugar out of a box.  
  
When Colin had finished with the pictures, they trooped back up the stairs (promising to send the elves copies of their pictures), assembled this newspaper, and fell asleep. It was one o'clock in the morning.  
  
*~*  
  
"Hermione?" Harry asked cautiously across the breakfast table. Hermione was seated away from him, pointedly ignoring his attempts at conversation. The attention of most of Gryffindor House was upon them. Someone, probably Seamus, had told everyone about the newspaper. Harry's head hurt too much from lack of sleep to think about it at that moment.  
  
"Herm, we made something for you." Next to Hermione, Ron sent Harry a wink, telling him that she was paying attention. With much ceremony, he passed her the artistically beautiful, well-written newspaper. Hermione gasped.  
  
"Th-thanks, Harry. You do realize you'll have to make a monthly edition?"  
  
Dean dropped his head on the table with a heartfelt groan. 


End file.
